At the Beginning
by Tw1st
Summary: The first time that Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock meet. Both have immediately varying feelings towards each other, neither one ever foreseeing a life-long friendship to form between them.
1. At the Beginning

**Title: At the Beginning**

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Chapter Summary: **The first time that Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock meet. Both have immediately varying feelings towards each other, neither one _ever_ foreseeing a life-long friendship to form between them.

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek characters are not mine.

**Author's Note:** This is my opinion on what would happen if after the whole 'you cheated on the Kobayashi Maru test' thing, if they hadn't been interrupted by the distress call from Vulkan. I expect this to be a few chapters, because I have more to play with this idea – but, you let me know if I should or not. :)

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The Starfleet cadet shifted his weight from one foot onto the other, his long-held composure threatening to slip past his over-bearing gaze and flood down to his mischievous mouth. He stared blandly upon the pale-faced Vulkan who stood a mere few feet in distance from himself, returning the extremely cold stare with a narrowly raised yet strangely arched eyebrow. The huge hall surrounding the duo was full of cadets as well as academic counselors – otherwise categorized as highly-ranked teachers who had nothing better to do with their lives on this particular day, apparently, except to bring forward a curious case of "cheating". Or, at least, that's what this pointed eared Vulkan character claimed to be the matter; James T. Kirk had "cheated" his way through the _Kobayashi Maru_. Now, if one was to look at it in that light, one could see it as "cheating" but cadet Kirk saw the whole test in itself to be a cheat. It was an un-passable test that was, according to the Vulkan, made to teach a being to become completely calm in the face of certain death. Easily, one could argue, it is truly impossible for one to become _completely composed_ when one knows that one is most certainly going to fly through the window and crisply burn to death – but, oh no, this Vulkan man insisted that this was what the test was designed for.

Rolling his tongue around in his mouth for a moment, wetting the dry patches that began to form in his cheeks, cadet Kirk placed his hands haughtily on his own chest and pressed down on the fine red material that hung off of his shoulders. It was obvious to tell that the elder men in the room had already sided with the 'advanced Starfleet Commander' who was more than less likely a compliant pet, and that the cadet had not a fleeting chance to convince them that he was in some way innocent. But, what the hell? Arguing was what he did best…

"Well, pardon me, but I do not believe in no-win situations." The cadet said sharply, dropping his arms to his side and shrugging his shoulders for emphasis, glancing towards the group of seated men before him in hopes that one of them would show some slight sign of compassion. A murmur from the large group of cadets behind him echoed and hummed throughout the room, until the soft melodic voice to Kirk's left sounded off _yet again_.

Of course, 'ears' had something to say. Typical. He had had something to say about _everythin_g Kirk had thrown in his direction. He was a valuable debater, with gallantry in the boundaries he crossed such as the mentioning of the cadets deceased father; which, though it was not exactly a furtive subject, it was not one to be brought up in such a publicized place without some kind of consequence.

"As I just stated, cadet Kirk, the _Kobayashi Maru_ was created for the purpose of loss. It is necessary for a captain to learn how to maintain complete control of himself as well as his crew when placed in the certainty of death." The Vulkans voice rolled over his mouth in a melodic hum that both pissed Kirk off, adjacent to throwing him into a warp of heated emotion. This pointed eared fellow gave the cadet a mingled feeling that tore and tugged in the pit of his stomach, twisting around like an encased, highly aggravated snake. In the three years that Kirk had been involved in Starfleet he had never once seen, or heard of, Commander Spock – yet this Vulkan in front of him just radiated in the illusion that practically sang to the cadet, promising the human that he _should_ _have _know this Commander all along.

"I think you just don't like that I beat your test." Kirk shot with an amused, concaved smile, cocking his head slightly to the side. A few cadets chuckled at this, and a few others mumbled in either disagreement or approval. Commander Spock squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes upon the man, sending a chill up the cadet's spine; a chill that wrapped all the way to his neck and fleeted goose bumps along his bare skin. Oh, oh, did that upset the Vulkan? Pity. Smiling again, which probably was not the most adult-like approach to take in the moment, Kirk watched as the commander's jaw dropped open to retort what was undeniably another revolt – but he was cut short by a council members booming voice.

"Cadet Kirk, the point here is that you cheated. You did not follow the rules, and therefore you cannot be trusted aboard a ship if your attitude is to be rebellious." The dark-skinned council member then stood up from his seat and nodded to the men around him, summoning something to each of them that no one else in the room even cared to understand or fathom.

"Well, quite frankly, I don't want to be on board a ship with a captain that has been trained to _accept death_ -"

"We will discuss what is to become of you, Cadet. Until then, everyone is dismissed." The man ran over Kirks words quickly, followed by the excited rush of people who made their way in highly-organized fashion from the room.

Kirk sunk his shoulders forward, rolling his head backwards with an aggravated moan as the busy group of cadets rushed around him, brushing his arms with their own identical red suits. When the majority had cleared, the cadet brushed the back of his sleeve against the top of his brow, lulling his gaze back to his left where he had expected the Vulkan to be absent from – though, he still stood there, his dark eyes staring with what threatened to be amusement, or admiration; either way, it sent uncomfortable notions throughout the cadets body, and he couldn't help but catch his breath in confusion. The two stared at each other for a long while until the familiarly warm palm of Dr. Leonard McCoy collapsed upon Kirk's shoulder.

"Ready to go?" McCoy, Kirks befriended partner, suggested roughly while slightly shaking the man's arm beneath his grip.

At this, Commander Spock straightened his posture to a sickeningly perfect stance and walked aggravatingly slowly from the room, avoiding the slightest crinkle in his navy blue outfit. When he had safely exited out of an ear-shot distance, Kirk twitched his cold blue eyes onto his taller friend and blew out a hot breath of air that happened to furtively sit in the cage of his chest. "Who was that pointy eared bastard?"

Leaning forward as to make a curious stare around Kirk's muscled torso, McCoy glanced after the direction in which the Commander had disappeared and raised both of his eyebrows. "I do not know," He mumbled, returning to his narrowed-back stance and throwing Kirk a wry smile. "But I like him."

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Every steady footfall that padded against the marbled floor rang and rattled throughout the Vulkans ears as he walked slowly towards his office, noting the incredulous distance from the session hall to his private quarters. However, the recent occurrences of the day which left his mind full of encircling ponders might have had a different effect on his mood as opposed to any other day. Therefore, the distance from room to room may have seemed longer because he was so impatient to get into the privacy of his office – where his mind and emotions could have a very serious 'come together'.

The hallway he walked down was uncharacteristically empty, only revealing the intensity of the meeting he had just renounced from. It was no doubt people were all 'buzzed' about the idea that Cadet Kirk had somehow found a way to cheat his way into winning the infamous _Kobayashi Maru_ test; the test in which Spock, himself, had created. Sighing angrily out of his nose, grasping a hold of the most immediate calming notion that floated through his brain, Spock shook the image of the blue-eyed cadet with his wicked-aggravating smile from his mind. That man – how did he even find a way to surpass the locked segment? Was he some kind of advanced-minded human? Not likely. The only positive thing that roguishly standard cadet had going for him was his father's legacy, nothing more.

Finally rounding the corner into his familiar office, Spock ran his pale hand along the smooth white wall as the door hummed quietly shut behind him. Finally, he was at peace to try and decipher what exactly had occurred on this present day. Placing the palms of his hands atop his rather empty desk, the Vulkan slowly sat down in his chair and twisted his mouth in a sideways smirk as his mind wrapped around copious opinions of the matter… and then the door hummed open.

His dark eyebrows rising in unison, Spock watched as the attractive silhouette of Cadet Uhura sank into his office. The woman's oval-shaped eyes fell adoringly upon him as he stared blankly back, and both were silent for a few moments with mutable negligence. Spock's teeth sank into his lower lip and he nodded towards the chair opposite his own. "Take a seat, Uhura."

Obediently, the dark-skinned beauty took a quick step around the small chair before her and caved into it softly. Her doe-eyes still stared upon him, full of emotions that he did not quite understand or care to master at this particular moment in time, but Spock could certainly point out the obvious pique of questions forming behind her tender lips. Batting her eyelashes, chest caving upward in a deep breath of preparation, the Starfleet cadet straightened the tightly-fit red uniform around her bosom and smiled sheepishly. Inwardly, Spock had to admit, she certainly did those blandly colored suits justice…

"That trial was a bit rough. Are you doing ok?" Finally, the inquiries began to spill.

Spock furrowed his brow and clasped his hands together softly, placing his elbows atop the desk before him. "I assumed your resignation would last longer," he started with a bemused smile, wetting his upper lip as the cadet flushed before him. "To answer your first inquiry, however, yes. I am pleasant."

Uhura's eyes promised to be completely un-believing to that statement, but she would not dare to press the matter any further. She knew better than to question the man who taught her – the same man that she had grown unhealthily attached to. And, for clarification, 'unhealthily attached' was the most immediate label for an emotionally involved relationship between a student and a teacher; though, in this case, it was something neither one could prevent. When Spock was a young boy, his mother had explained to him that you could not help who you loved; often referring to his Vulkan father, her being a human and all. Leaning forward from her chair, Uhura clasped down furiously on another question that seemed to be burning beneath her heart and soul, bubbling her sanity to the core.

"Something is troubling you. Inquire, and I will answer." Spock said softly, staring gently upon her narrowed cheek bones that were haunted with sympathy.

"I just," She began, dropping her head and shaking it back and forth with a short laugh. "I just want to know what you think is going to happen to Cadet Kirk?"

Spock leaned his back deeper into his chair and swiveled slightly to the left, staring upon the white blank wall of his office. What was going to happen to Cadet Kirk, especially after his attitude towards the council? Smiling slowly, Spock relived the same feeling he had at the end of the 'trial', when he had realized how much the human cadet had replicated his own younger self once. A time ago, neither long nor short, Spock had stood before the same number of council members back on his home planet of Vulkan, and had rebelliously chosen to deny them the pleasure of his enrollment. Again, the placid half-man chuckled and lulled his head to the side, facing the woman before him. "What do you expect will occur to Cadet Kirk?"

"I do not _expect_ anything – I just _hope_ he will be grounded for an extremely long while!" She snapped inclusively, backtracking with a look of apology as she regrouped her emotions, biting down on her tongue as to forbid anymore outbursts.

Spock raised his eyebrows again, scooting his chair closer to his desk. "You have much pent-up anger towards Cadet Kirk. Why?"

Uhura rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and calculated a decisively mature way to state her opinion of the man, grasping the only description that seemed fitting. "He is a terrorist." When Spock merely blinked his eyes amusedly at her response, never daring to chuckle, she smiled and leaned forward again with a broad smile on her face. "Kirk and I have hit it off badly from the beginning. Three years ago he got intoxicated in a bar, before he had enrolled in Starfleet, and engaged in a very messy interrogation of my personal life – which, I assume, he found was flirtatious. Shortly after our little encounter, he was beaten to a pulp by a few of my companioned cadets. Oh – and I caught him sleeping with my roommate last night." She glanced past her teacher cautiously and narrowed her eyes upon a non-exultantly fascinating spot on the wall, concentrating on hiding the piqued flush of her cheeks at the recollection of standing half-naked before the ruggedly handsome cadet the night prior. "Let's just leave it at that."

Spock placed his hands back atop the desk and nodded his head. "He copiously reminds me of myself…"

Looking extremely offended by that, Uhura reached forward and took the commander's hands within her own, grasping his pale palms tightly inside of hers. She demanded his eyes fall respectfully into a shared gaze with her own as she pushed her body roughly forward, the musical voice that rolled through her lips dropping to a low whisper. "He is not half of the man that you are – and, well, you are only _half_ man. Which is saying something."

Spock's mind felt as if it was flooding at a dizzily alarming pace, erupting him with feelings that should not be ever allowed into a Vulkan's mind – but, she was right, he was _only_ half. Somehow that cadet had managed to erase all of his worry-swept thoughts from his mind, causing the world to seemingly revolve only around them. Grinning warmly, he squeezed gently at her hands and leaned a fraction closer, closing the space between them into an even smaller gap. This preferment shot an excited flare to spark within the cadet's brown eyes, and the rate of her heart was notably rocketed to a dangerous speed.

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This isn't supposed to be a oneshot. I have, like, a few more chapter ideas to make this an extremely short _story_ – but I dunno if I'm going to add them in or not. Let me know if you think I should?


	2. Almost Forgotten

**Title: Almost Forgotten**

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Chapter Summary: **Cadet Kirk makes a horrible mistake in his alcoholic choices, and he fumbles across the Commander in his sick stupor.

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek characters are not mine.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so I thought it was spelled VulCan (that IS how Wikipedia spells it)… but then people whined about it being spelled VulKan… and now people are saying it's VulCan. I'm going to drown myself if someone tells me another way to spell it – 'cause I'm, quite frankly, giving up on the spelling for the time being. :) EVERYONE knows how to pronounce it… so work with it. K and C make the same sound in MOST cases, so damnit, it is what it is; though, notably, I'm going back to the C because Microsoft Word even says that it's the right spelling.

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Kirk slammed the empty blue-lidded flask of what was once-full of some kind of disgusting ale (that McCoy had insisted would be pleasurable) back onto the stand beside his bed. Sinking his neck heavily into the pillow beneath his head, the cadet sifted through a series of playbacks that could be reasonably titled as melancholy tributes to his horrible day. Well, it hadn't started out completely horrible. In fact, to do a short play-by-play he had awoken from this same bed earlier in the morning with a very satisfied pleasure as to what he would be performing on the 'unbeatable test', and had then beaten the unbeatable test with a gesture that shocked all of Starfleet. Then he had been roughly called to the front of a very aggravated council, accused of cheating. Which, in all honestly, he _had_ cheated – but he had cheated for a good reason! He had to prove a point, and that point had been proven, and quite frankly he was doing everybody a favor… and yet, here he was, being punished for it. Running his tongue lazily over his liquor-tainted lips, the cadet inhaled heavily while grappling the image of Commander Spock's sinister eyebrow raise from his mind. That bastard. It was his entire fault. He just _had _to go whine and bitch to whomever would listen about how his unbeatable test had been surpassed by a cheat… and he probably didn't rest until he was promised by the group of marital teachers that the fiend would be punished. And so, here Cadet Kirk was, awaiting the outcome of whatever unnecessary yet impotent punishment would be thrust upon him.

Twitching his feet back and forth at the foot of his bed, the cadet flipped over onto his stomach and winced. Bad move. His bulging stomach full of alcohol flopped and whirred as he shifted around back onto his back, cursing every inanimate object in the room. His ears began to ring with pestilent omniscient sounds that, in reality, weren't even real – but _damn_ they felt real. Clutching his hands to his eyes, pressing the cave in his palms to the lids of his face, the cadet blew his cheeks into a large pocket of air with a disgusted grimace. Inwardly, he kicked himself for ever accepting such a strong alcoholic beverage from his intended 'doctor' of a friend. Oh, some doctor. What kind of a doctor recommends an alcoholic beverage of _crap_ to their friends? Kirk pursed his lips in pain, dropping his hands from his eyes with an exasperated groan, picturing a new way for Spock to improve his stupid test; instead of a ship crash, it could be a test of what to do when faced with the certain death of alcoholic beverages. Chuckling from his own ridiculous thoughts, Kirk shot up as the jostle of his stomach from repetitive laughing caused a nauseating impulse to drive him upward. Tossing his bare feet onto the marble floor, the cold chill of the polished tile sending tremors of burning freeze up his naked legs, he stood on shaky legs and clutched at his abdomen.

Teetering to the door, waiting impatiently for it to whir quickly open on its retracting duo, Kirk pressed the back of his hand firmly to his mouth as a painfully domineering spasm twisted in his stomach. Finally, after what seemed to be eight hours, the door whirred open and the cadet slipped out into what he presumed to be an empty hallway. Of course it would be empty, everyone at this time of night was undoubtedly eating or studying, not finding any reason to wander room to room for any given reason – so, obviously, he would be free to sprint to the bathroom with little to no encounters. Right? Chin to his chest, hand over his mouth, Kirk stared at the ground as his feet moved furiously, just below the speed of a sprint. He was too afraid to look up in the fear that any sudden movement of his head would open the passageway, much like a hose, and have some kind of dominoes-effect in the essence of spewing. Damn McCoy to hell.

Suddenly, with no warning and no foreshadowing of probability, Kirk's golden head of hair slammed painfully hard into someone's strong chest, who just _happened_ to be coming from around the corner at the exact same time, forcing the cadet to raise his head up with a regretful notion. And, though he was horrified enough as it was to be stopped in his initial course of action, Cadet Kirk dropped his hand from his mouth and bit down on his tongue aggressively when he found himself face to face with his recently-assigned moral enemy. Bastard. Swallowing down the impulse to vomit all over his placid face, Kirk stared at the Vulcan whose emotions were dripping with a derogating lack of inadvertency. Slowly dropping his arms to his sides, fists clenched to the point of pure-white knuckles, the cadet took a steady intake of air in hopes of calming his stomach.

Raising an eyebrow, Commander Spock twisted his lips into a flat line as he stared at the cadet before him, who was glistening with sweat and trembling with the promise of pain. "You appear as if you are about to regurgitate your recently consumed food, Cadet." He said smoothly, quirking the side of his mouth into a small smile.

"Yeah, well, I _feel _like I'm about to regurgitate my recently consumed food." Kirk said in a mocking voice, twitching his eye at the disgusting illustration the words played before his mind. Oh, Commander Spock had a series of temerities to be willing to engage with him in conversation when he felt like this…

Sighing, Spock noted the despondent attitude the cadet was taking, and squared his shoulders in a professional fashion. Though the Vulcan had managed to loath the cheating fiend just a few hours prior, he couldn't fight off the urge to at least offer the pathetic cadet his personal aid. "Do you need assistance in making your way to the personal relieving facilities?"

Kirk, wincing at him with the utmost lack of plaudit, dropped his jaw for a moment and hesitated in a stupor position with a shocked expression. "No. I do not need help. I know where the bathrooms are – I have _relieved_ myself a few times, y'know." He possibly would have laughed at his point, had his physical attributes been in an opposite situation, but instead he just stared up at the Vulcan with the single wish that the entity before him was not a Commander but rather a meaningless cadet; simply because, if that were the case, he could thrust the Vulcan to the side with an aggressive elbow and continue on his way. But, wishes never coming true and all, he would have to ask nicely. "Now, if you will excuse me, I should probably –" A sudden involuntary spasm threw the cadet's shoulders into the opposite wall, causing him to rush his hand once again to the gap of his mouth. Caving the square of his back into the wall he had collapsed into, Kirk slid down it with another nauseating quirk, plopping onto the floor with a loud clap.

Spock, still seemingly inadvertent and rather taken by surprise at the series of events, narrowed his eyes on the cadet with fascination. Taking a step towards the fallen man, the Vulcan slowly bent down onto his knee, leveling himself with Kirk. Placing his elbow squarely upon his thigh, Spock then took the first inquiry of concern as he watched the man's brow furrow in distress. For the first time in his small span of knowing him, the cadet seemed much weaker and – frankly – human. Before, when the Vulcan had first laid eyes upon Cadet Kirk, Spock had been implausibly frustrated by the strong willed man – but not now. Fighting off the impulse to place his hand onto the cadet's forehead, much like his human mother did to him when he was sick, Spock forced himself to ask the most immediate question he could capture. "Have you requested that Cadet McCoy examine you?"

Kirk gurgled a chuckle, raising his head with one eye open, glaring at the Vulcan next to him with a single gaze. "Cadet McCoy is the one responsible for this."

Spock looked confused. "I had assumed you were intoxicated –"

"Oh! Oh. I am _quite_ intoxicated, Commander." Kirk slummed over him, slapping the Vulcan in the side of the arm playfully with a very wide grin. "My stomach just does not agree with th-th-the-"

Spock stood quickly and took a swift step backwards as Cadet Kirk – well, one can probably imaginatively play the scene out over and over again in one's mind as to what Cadet Kirk did next. Eyes darting up to the ceiling, Spock winced into the florescent light above his head which caused the jet black hair on his head to shine with the illusion of being glass. Absentmindedly the Vulcan rubbed his left arm that had so recently been rattled by the cadet's strong hand, and he tenderly pressed inward on his pale skin. It didn't necessarily hurt him, but it had been a long while since Spock had been touched in such a manner, playful or not. When the sound of Kirk's heaving fell to silence, the Vulcan felt he had a probable amount of control on his stomach reflex, and slowly lowered his gaze onto the cadet's paled-out face. As he stared down upon the mess, Spock was momentarily overcome with the misrepresented feeling of pity as a hidden longing at the pit of the Vulcan's stomach secretly wanted to reach down and help the man to his feet – or at least somehow ease the obvious pain in the cadet's frangible body…

"My God, man!" A voice rang behind the Commander, causing his pointed ears to twitch in the general direction. Twisting his head to the side, Spock glanced at the image of Cadet McCoy, sprinting down the hallway with a hand to his head in an inherited trait of shock. "I said the _green_ lidded flask – not the _blue_ one!" Rushing past Spock, banging lightly into his placid arm, McCoy skid to a screeching stop at the sight of Cadet Kirk and pressed his forearm to his nose as to fight off the putrid fumes.

Kirk, leaning back against the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest and he glared up at McCoy with the opposite diffident of anger. "Bullshit. You said _blue_!"

"Nope. Nope, I swear I said green." McCoy said defiantly, turning towards Commander Spock for the first sign of acknowledgement and shooting him a tiny grin. "I told him green."

"I hate you…" Kirk wheezed, clutching his stomach again and doubling over. And he was honest, in this moment in time, that he truly hated McCoy with a fiery passion. He hated him for making him vomit, he hated him for lying, and he mostly hated him for embarrassing Kirk in front of Commander Spock! Squinting his eyes, Kirk shook that last thought from his mind in confusion. It's not like it really mattered what Spock thought of him; other than the fact that he looked like a babbling idiot at the moment, and probably appeared to be weak. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, the cadet allowed McCoy to loop his arms around his flaccid chest and heave him upwards, helping him to his feet. Dilatorily, carefully, they made their way towards the restrooms in a clambering mess of urgency. Grunting with every step, Kirk eventually gave into the hesitated avoidance to cave his weight into his friend's body weakly. As he bent heavily against McCoy's side, grasping deathly tight to his shoulders, the cadet's head began to spin with regret; if only he hadn't been so stubborn, it would have been Commander Spock helping him to the restroom instead of McCoy. If he hadn't been so stubborn, he would have been tightly clinging to Commander Spock, who had shown the first sign of weakness in offering to help him in the first place. If he hadn't been so stubborn… Oh, hell. Digging his head into his own shoulder, Kirk drove the ideas from his mind, swearing that those ridiculous thoughts were coming from the poisonous liquid that bastard McCoy had told him drink from the _blue_ lidded flask…

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Spock stared down at the messy area that the malevolent Cadet Kirk had recently been seated near, and bit down on his lip with a paling impulse. His frenzied mind began to slow as he turned his back on the image, preparing to make his way back towards the office in which his original destination was plotted. Glancing down at his white hands, admiring the greenish hue of his own skin against the blue fabric of his suit, Spock exhaled lightly, grasping onto the remaining sanitary thoughts that flitted through his mind. Narrowing his gaze aggressively, he found it much harder to shake the image of Cadet Kirk's fragile body on the floor than he had originally perceived.

"Commander Spock!"

Stopping short of his heel, turning his body back towards the mess he had forced himself to abandon, Spock's human eyes softened at the sight of Cadet Uhura bounding quickly towards him. When she had finally cut the distance short between them, hHer long hair bounced to a halt on her left shoulder, cascading down the front of her shirt like a mane. "What happened to Cadet Kirk?" She stammered quickly, hooking an inquiring thumb in the direction that Kirk and McCoy had disappeared. Spock simply gestured towards the mess on the floor a few feet away, which Uhura's eyes fell onto with an adjacent look of bitter disgust. "Is he alright?"

Raising his eyebrow and folding his arms slowly before his chest, Spock tugged his dark and gentle gaze back to Uhura's face. "I was brought to believe that you disliked Cadet Kirk." He said simply, emotionless as usual, though if he _were_ to show any sign of emotion, Uhura _might_ have caught a leaking sense of jealousy twisting through his gritted teeth.

"I – I do." She stammered in confusion. Was she lying? Was she just pretending to detest the handsome cadet so much as to avoid the concurrency of worry that might overtake the Commanders emotions? "I was only wondering."

Satisfied with this, hording off the bubbling rise of accusations, Spock lifted his pale hand slowly from its enwrapped linger on his chest and ran two fingers gently across the Cadet's soft cheek. Her warm skin sent a hot sensation past his wrist and through his forearm, reminding him why he cared for her the way he did. Funny – he had _almost_ forgotten…

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Oooh, what's that mean?  
Should I keep going? I think so… :)


	3. Not What they Seem

**Title: Not What they Seem**

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Chapter Summary: **Cadet Kirk and Cadet Uhura have a mingle in the hallway, interrupted by the summoning of 'all cadets' to prepare to be shipped off to the aid of Vulcan. As Kirk excitedly prepares for take-off, he is sourly aware that the counsel has no intentions of sending him anywhere; therefor sparking an interesting conversation between him and Commander Spock.

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek characters are not mine.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is different than the others. I know many people are trying to figure out whether this is going to be slash or not – well, it has a suggestive slash to it, but I'm afraid this story is probably going to be too short for anything other than suggestion. It's really just to show how different they are, and it's kind of an experiment for me to see if I can write Star Trek worth a damn. :) I just HOPE you're all enjoying it.

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The time of night was unknown to Cadet Kirk when he made his way back to his rooming quarters, fumbling across the frozen floor with his still naked feet. When his knee painfully cascaded into the frame of his bed, Kirk felt notoriously successful in making his doddering sleep-walk all the way from the restrooms to the safety of McCoy's bedside. Tugging the light gray blankets from the tucked-in neatness of its making, the cadet yawned loudly and lapped his tongue around in disgust as the re-occurring taint of spew bubbled up from his breath. Fumbling himself into the dark bed before him, swallowing down the remainder of ill-smell, Kirk dropped his head to the familiar soft pillow and shut his eyes tightly. He had not exactly kept track to the precise amount of time he had spent in the bathroom, curled up next to a particular toilet he had decided to name 'Henry' – which, in that case, probably meant he had been in there for _at least_ five hours, naming inanimate objects and all. Either way, he had missed out on a plentiful amount of sleep, and there were no reasons left for him to be awake; so, why couldn't he sleep? Cautiously rolling over, recalling the pain from the last time he had lulled onto his side, Kirk tightened his cheeks in a fractional attempt to force his eyes into seclusion; but to no avail. The tenebrous room surrounding was just as dark with his eyes open, and as he blinked into the night it became euphorically difficult to decipher when his eyes were in fact shut.

As he sat, stiff as a board, staring blankly at what he presumed to be a wall in front of him (though he hadn't the slightest clue how close he was to said wall) a seriatim of snores began to erupt from his partnering roommates mouth. Oh, lovely. Now he not only had to force his mind to quiet down long enough for him to get a wink of sleep, but he also had to fight off the sound of McCoy's droning voice. Flinching as the inward breaths of loudness began to vary in length, Kirk groaned irritably and kicked his legs out from under the light fabric, shoving his feet onto the cold floor for the _second_ time that evening. Shooting a very aggravated glare in the direction of his partners snores – not that either one could see each other, even if McCoy had been awake, (it still made the cadet feel better) – Kirk walked with stiff legs to the door he had so recently merged from. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could find a nice resting area in the study hall or... perhaps under his new sex partners bed. Smiling at the thought, Kirk threw his hand protectively over his eyes as the doors shot open, shying away from the pool of light that flooded into the room. Glancing back at McCoy, now that he had the aid of luminance, the cadet chuckled at the sight of his friends misshapen figure; sprawled into an uneven bundle, long legs hanging off the bed, and slightly drooling out of the corner of his mouth as he erupted into fits of snoring. Turning back around, satisfied that his susurrus would not awaken anyone, the cadet swiftly made his way from the room, just about knocking himself into another human.

Blinking back the shock as he stared into the face of Cadet Uhura, Kirk broadened his shoulders and smiled silkily as the woman's face twisted into a mixture of disgust and – could it possibly be concern? Of all people to run into in a hallway, it had to be her... how convenient. "Well hello, there. What are you doing up so late?" He purred smoothly, slowly folding his arms before his chest to drag out the effect of emphasis, and allowing his eyes to run up and down her body with a very obvious contentment. Oh, Uhura – such a stubborn beauty she was. And my, had she given Kirk quite a chase for the past three years, still failing to give him her first name after all this time of knowing each other – or, rather, of Kirk thrusting himself at her. A silent breath of relief erupted through the cadets mouth as he found himself humanly constricted by her attractive woman curves – thus only further proving his accusations that his strange 'infatuation' thoughts prior were, in fact, from the poison.

Pulling her plump lips into her mouth, staring up at the man with a twitch of her eye, the cadet leaned her body hesitantly backwards as to cause further distance between them. "_Morning._"

Kirk brought his eyes back up to the woman's face, staring at her with confusion, and squinted. "What?"

"It's morning. Not night. Three thirty, to be exact..." Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Uhura took a leveled step backwards and twisted her mouth into a scowl as she noted his adventurous eyes beginning to wander about yet again. Not particularly wanting to be violated by his glances, she reached her arm out and waved a steady hand before the man's face. "Would you _stop that_?" She then, self consciously, crossed her arms before her chest and twisted a lock of her hair between two of her fingers.

Chuckling and rubbing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes, forcing his gaze off of her body, Kirk slightly bowed his head and sighed. "Sorry, sorry. It's a little late, y'know?"

"Early." She corrected him again. She had a habit of doing that – it was annoying, really. She was lucky she was such an attractive woman, or the cadet probably would have lost his cool on her many years ago. But, of course, he had been strangely infatuated with Cadet Uhura ever since he first lay eyes on her in that bar back at his home town. Blowing out a heavy breath of air and shifting his cold feet around uncomfortably, the man recollected the night with distaste. "Are you still drunk, Kirk?"

Knocking back into reality, Kirk cocked his head to the side and flushed incredibly. "What gave you the idea I was ever drunk in the first place?"

Rolling her large brown eyes up into the air – those same doe-eyes that Kirk had first been so attracted to – Uhura turned her side to him with the egging promise of walking away. "Commander Spock told me everything." She then rolled her hips in a very suggestive mannerism and stalked smoothly in the other direction with an echoing tap of her high-heels.

Staring after her with a glower, his jaw hung like a horse, Kirk tried to decipher through the maze of thoughts that towered into his mind. _Spock_ had told her? What gave him the right to have a one-on-one conversation with Uhura? How many people _had _that pointed eared bastard told? Was he going around in his haughty blue outfit and stammering out, to anyone who would listen, about how Kirk's moment of vulnerability had been _oh so_ amusing? Practically fuming from the ears, the cadet curled his toes angrily into the marble ground and clenched his fists at the pugnacious thought. A thick cloud of umbrage began to form over the idea of Commander Spock in the cadet's mind, overshadowing any respect he may have ever had for the Vulcan. Upper lip quivering with a plethora of anger, he watched as Uhura turned a corner and disappeared – flipping a sudden switch in his mind. Aggressively shaking his head, Kirk sprint after the woman with absentminded knowledge as to why. When finally catching up to her, he grabbed at Uhura's wrist and turned her gently back around to face him – or at least he had meant to pull at her gently, though the spastic whip of her dark hair suggested otherwise. "What _exactly_ did that pointed eared bastard say?"

Wrenching her hand from his grip, looking utterly offended (though he hadn't the slightest clue as to why), Uhura straightened her outfit and huffed. "He is your Commander – how disrespectful are you?"

Realizing that it was the reference to Spock that bothered the woman so, Kirk backtracked and held his hands innocently before him. "Well, I would have called him a 'winy little girl' but I didn't want to offend any present company." He offered her a twisted smile, amused at the disgusted expressions that colored onto her face. Uhura's mouth dropped open as if she were about to spit a mouthful of insults into his face, but he trekked over her before any of that could be allowed. "Just tell me what he said... and perhaps I'll give you a kiss."

Slamming her mouth shut, Uhura stared up at the cadet with a blank expression. Then, slowly, a smile curved over her lips as she intertwined her fingers softly before her. "I'll tell you – but only for the purpose of you leaving me alone." She then narrowed her eyes in a momentary silence of deep thought while recollected what was exactly said between them. "All Commander Spock said was that you had been seeking out a strong alcoholic beverage and had somehow stumbled across something that made you sick."

Kirk waited patiently for her to say more. When he realized that nothing else was going to come, he furrowed his brow curiously and felt capitulated to believe that she was honest. "That's it?" He said slowly, leaning against the wall with his elbow and ruffling his golden hair about the top of his head with the palm of his cold hand. Uhura simply caved her chin and raised both of her eyebrows in confusion. Sighing thunderously, Kirk twisted his head backwards as he fell pray to the thoughts that were incipiently falling to mind. That pointed eared bastard sure made it difficult to stay mad at him when he didn't do an ounce of harm. Hell. What was one to do when one wanted to be pissed off at someone – who made it increasingly impossibly to be pissed off at? Wiping his hand slowly down his face, tugging at the skin at his eyes, Kirk squinted down upon Uhura who was (remarkably) still standing in front of him. Smiling flirtatiously, the cadet pushed himself smoothly off of the wall and took a swift step forward, grabbing hold of the woman's shoulders tersely. "Oh, right, you wanted your kiss, huh?"

Just as Cadet Uhura was about to slap Cadet Kirk square across the face for even suggesting such a thing, a fully-outfitted professor with a streaming orange mustache came shouldering down the hallway while shouting almost in-audible orders. "All Cadets on hand! We have received a distress signal from Vulcan! Prepare for immediate take-off!" Exchanging a quick glance with Uhura, Kirk dropped his hands quickly from the woman's shoulders as they both barreled quickly off into their opposite directions. Ducking and winding around the flood of cadets that suddenly filed hurriedly into the hallway, Kirk ran with determination towards his personal quarters, clambering messily into the room when finally reaching it.

"Lights!" The cadet exclaimed loudly as he shuffled across the cold floor to his short-stacked dresser, yanking the upper drawer open to withdraw a smug-looking pair of socks that _should_ have been white. Hopping around in a circle on one foot, Kirk pulled the sock furiously over his numb skin, catching a glimpse of his still sleep-submerged friend as he did a one-eighty spin about the room. "McCoy, get up!" Reaching down for his pair of boots, Kirk collapsed onto his bed and began to yank the shoe onto his foot, glancing back at the doctor once again. He still hadn't moved. "McCoy!" He tried again, latching his fingers hurriedly onto the laces and tying them into a distressed knot. Again, he raised his eyes to see if McCoy had made an inch of movement. Perhaps he was dead...? Grabbing up his spare boot, preparing to put it on, Kirk paused and twisted his mouth into a smirk; adjacently throwing the shoe with incredible force at the sleeping man's head. The boot bounced noisily off of McCoy's skull and clashed to the ground on the opposite side of his bed, causing Kirk to chuckled loudly as he rose himself from his own bed to re-retrieve it.

"What the HELL, Kirk!?" McCoy exclaimed loudly, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head with a wince and a curse.

"The planet Vulcan is under attack." Kirk said with a lack of bemusement as the more professional tone began to overtake him. "Get up. We're shipping off."

------------------------------

The stubby man in the blue outfit that stood before the group of red-suited cadets read off the names slowly and clearly, enunciating each one as if every single one of them were deaf _and_ mute. After he stammered and clambered around each name, he then revealed the ship in which they would shuttle onto. Each quorum of cadets was agog to get their destined ship name, and as each one received it, they would turn swiftly on squeaking heels and march quickly off into the direction of their shuttle. As the crowd surrounding Cadet Kirk and Cadet McCoy began to shallow out, it became dreadfully obvious that something was wrong. Every single cadet was being assigned out, which meant the danger of whatever attacked the planet Vulcan was greater than any one of them may have been expecting; but Starfleet was always prepared for what was to come, no matter what. Tapping his foot impatiently, Kirk's mood fell into a irascible one as the plump man with the small computer-pad dropped the board to his side and walked away; leaving the cadet and McCoy alone. Shooting his doctor-friend a look of incredible disbelief, Kirk rolled his shoulder blades backwards and pulled back the sleeves of his arms. "He didn't call my name."

McCoy, who had stayed out of respect to his friend, glanced after the stocky blue-outfitted man as he walked tartly onto a shuttle, doors closing with a whispering 'hum' quickly behind him. "Maybe he made a mistake?" He offered, though they both knew it was unlikely...

Kirk slammed his foot loudly onto the floor, causing a clapping echo to ring about the busy dock, and he glanced about him for any sign of help. Why would that man not call his name? Kirk was a damn fine Cadet who deserved nothing more than to be shipped out with all of the others – if not _more_ than all of the others. Ice-blue eyes scanning the varying heads of hundreds of different busy-bodies, he latched curiously onto a very out-of-place set of ears that bobbed obviously above the crowd. Narrowing his eyes in a rush, Kirk nudged McCoy quickly in his ribcage and began to abscond. "I'm going to find out." Before McCoy could react, or grab hurriedly onto his friends arm, Kirk disappeared into the operatic crowd of flitting Cadets and Commanders. As the golden-haired man elbowed his way in-between muscle and finely-physique individuals, (ignoring the shouts of "Hey!" and "Move it, Cadet!") Kirk spotted the Vulcan standing hesitantly before a humming shuttle that threatened as if it were about to take off. His soft eyes were bearing gently upon a computer-pad held firmly between his pale hands, and his tightly-adjusted blue suit rose and fell with every heavy but calm intake of breath that he emitted from his nose. His dark eyebrows were furrowed nervously as he seemed to be making an internal head-count of what was presumably the number of Cadets about to deploy into space, and his lips held a thinly-locked line on his face. Obviously, there were some pretty pathetic jobs at being a Starfleet Commander.

Closing what was left between them, Kirk slipped to the Vulcan's side sharply and with a series of accusing glares. "Excuse me, Commander Spock, but why the hell -"

He stopped abruptly as the pale Vulcan threw one hand up in a silencing gesture, still holding onto the computer-pad in his other. "One moment of patience, Cadet." Spock said softly, keeping his hand steadily before Kirk's face as if it were a glass-shield of silence. The cadet stood shell-shocked, mouth slightly agape, using a large gamut from slapping the Vulcan's hand away from his nose. When Commander Spock had finally finished his counting, he dropped the computer-pad softly to his side and raised his eyes slowly to the cadet's face, emotionless as usual. "What is it that you require?"

"Yeah – ok – I _require_ to know why the hell I'm not being deployed to Vulcan!" Kirk snapped instantaneously, his voice dripping with mordant as he pointed with emphasis towards the humming shuttle.

"You are grounded, Cadet Kirk." Spock replied swiftly, without a batted eyelash or even the slightest consideration of re-checking his sources. If Kirk didn't know any better, it seemed as if the Vulcan was stressing out behind that unemotional cover. But, it was no matter what the pale-faced bastard was feeling... what _mattered_ was that Kirk was not on a shuttle.

The cadet's eye twitched as he shook his head in slow confusion, allowing the Commander's words to fully sink in. "_Grounded_?"

"Grounded." Spock repeated, caving his head to his chest in reassurance while attempting to slip hurriedly around the fuming cadet.

"I haven't been grounded since I was a little kid. You can't do this to me!" Kirk exclaimed, shifting quickly to the left, blocking the Vulcan's escape.

Rushing air out impatiently through his nose, but remaining as composed as possible, Spock pulled the computer-pad to his msucled chest and clutched onto it deathly tight as he stared the cadet square in the eyes."When one acts as a child, one is treated as a child. The counsel can do what they please with you." Though he was not particularly ebullient, Kirk was growing more and more angry with Spock's subtle attitude towards the matter the further the conversation grew. First he was going to tell him that he was 'grounded', then he was going to lecture him? Clenching his jaw angrily, Kirk relapsed the utter hatred he had encountered the day prior when he had realized that this Vulcan had accused him of cheating. This was entirely his fault, yet again. If it weren't for Commander Spock's dislike to Kirk _beating_ his stupid test, the cadet would be aboard a shuttle right now and shipping off to save the Vulcan's own home planet!

"You need me to help, _Commander._" Kirk said bitterly, gulping down on the word 'commander' with a rush of redoubt. When Spock did nothing in response to this but blink a few times in obvious amusement, Kirk reached quickly forward and grabbed aggressively onto the Vulcan's blue sleeve with a taint of bewilderment. "Put me on that shuttle."

Glancing at the stronghold that Kirk had on his arm, Spock stood very still, smiling softly at the propitious suggestion of knocking the cadet into unconsciousness. But there was little time left for Kirk's immature attempts at getting his way, and the matter would have to be settled quickly and reasonably. Lowering his voice to a whisper as Kirk struggled to keep the everlasting hold on the Vulcan's arm, Spock spoke quickly and with words the poured from his tongue in the most canorous voice one could muster. "That is where you are mistaken, Cadet." Then, without much effort on his part at all, he brushed the cadet's hand off of his arm and stalked swiftly towards the steps that led up to the humming shuttle. Attempting to ignore the burning sensation of bitter eyes boreing into the back of his pale neck, the human-side of the Vulcan forced him to slowly turn around and leave the broken cadet with one more deprecate quirk. "Attempt not to miss me too much in my absence, Cadet Kirk."

As the torpid words tumbled smoothly from the Vulcan's thin lips, the duo locked a last gaze of anger for the final time. It was palpable for the first time to Cadet Kirk that Commander Spock truly had a human-halved side to his perfect appeal; perfect posture, perfect composure, perfect mentality – perfect, perfect, perfect! But, apparently, things were not always what they seemed, for even a Vulcan (half or not) could have a stinging sense of humor that only a human could muster as 'painful'. Staring in amazement up at the verdant-hued smile that twitched playfully at the corners of the Vulcan's mouth, the cadet's blue eyes stared with a blankly-numb expression up at the pale-faced bastard, who finally turned away to disappear behind the shuttle's purring doors.

Ears ringing with the echoing murmur of the Vulcan's melodic voice that had whispered teasingly towards him, the golden-haired man took three slow steps backwards as the shuttle lifted upwards and blasted into the direction of space. Staring after the hunk of medal longingly, a sensation of sorrow crashing down around his broad shoulders, Kirk bit down on his lower lip angrily as a melee of emotions bore into his skull. Never in his life had he felt so revengeful towards another being, half human or not. Kirk HAD to find a way onto that ship with Commander Spock, if it was the last thing he did.

Bastard.

------------------------------

Heh. I'm thinking one more chapter will deem it successful. Are you going to read my last one if I write it? :)


	4. Embracing Salutation

**Title: Embracing Salutation **

**Rating: PG-13 **

**Chapter Summary: **After McCoy sneaks Kirk aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, things begin to get a little rough. Kirk, aware of that fact that a repetition of the past is about to go underway, rushes onto the bridge and bursts into an explanation as to why the ship _must_ stop immediately. Followed by a very last moment between the two main characters...

**Disclaimer: **Star Trek characters are not mine.

**Author's Note:** This is the final chapter, and it moves quickly and has a lot of dialogue. Hopefully you have fun with it. :)

------------------------------

"Kirk!"

Turning around, his hands clutching fistfuls of golden hair, Cadet Kirk glanced diffidently onto Cadet McCoy's wavering hand that beckoned him to come forward. "C'mere!" McCoy hissed through clenched teeth, attempting yet again to get his stubbornly rooted friend to follow after him. Glancing around in confusion, Kirk stalked quickly forward and nearly lost his balance as McCoy grabbed furiously onto his arm, yanking him off into some unknown direction at a very obviously-rushed speed. The man's trepidation as to what was going on seemed to be 'gone with the wind', so to speak, and any mere onlooker would be immediately aware of that fact. Luckily enough, however, they were not stopped nor questioned their entire way into the medical tent; where, upon entry, McCoy dropped his hold on Kirk's muscled forearm and rushed over to a glass cabinet filled with what was (presumably) medicines.

"Bones, what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be on a shuttle?" Kirk exclaimed finally, shifting his weight back and forth, up and down, trying to see over the doctor's shoulder as to try and decipher exactly what he was doing. The dark-haired man's busy working hands shuffled through tiny shot-containers that were labeled by the hundreds with diseases and cures that Kirk had never heard of – reassuringly most of which had originated on other – distant – planets.

Removing a painful-looking shot, twisting it around between his fingers, McCoy turned back around to face Kirk with a wide and rather torpid grin. "You deserve to be up there, Jim. With all of us. And I hate the idea of you staying down here, lookin' all pathetic - " He then took a steady step forward and raised his hand that held tightly onto the recently activated shot. Kirk flinched to the side and held his hand up to block the blow, confused to all hell, but he failed to react in time as the quick transaction passed a full-blown liquid serum down into his neck.

"Ahg! Hell – damnit – what was that?" Kirk gurgled impulsively, doddering over towards a swivel-chair as a torrid feeling began to ripple down his neck and into his left shoulder, reacting so quickly that (if he were blind, or strangely confused) he might mistaken the feeling for self-combustion.

"I'm doing you a favor. Levarin Mud Flease... I'll explain later – now, we have little time, and you are about to lose sight in your left eye. Oh, and a really bad headache." McCoy said, half distracted, yet again digging through the cabinet and pocketing a series of different shots that, hopefully, would cure the pain that was now swelling down to Kirk's fingers.

"Why are you doing this, again?" Kirk attempted once more, blinking back the glossed-over blur that began to form in front of his left eye adjacent to a piercing scream that mulled over his skull.

"I owe you. I got you sick, after all, so now I'm doing you a favor; getting you onto that shuttle."

"So – lemme get this straight..." Kirk began, standing from the chair and practically collapsing onto his knees – though McCoy had anticipated that kind of reaction, and grabbed underneath the cadet's armpit with his shot-free hand. Leaning into McCoy's side, now completely blinded in one eye, he continued through gritted teeth as the burning sensation surged into the right side of his body. "You got me sick – and you're fixing that by... getting me sick again. You call this a favor?"

The next few hours were simply a shadow in Cadet Kirk's memory.

------------------------------

Spock walked stiffly through the crowd of busy workers in the engineering room, his heels tapping respectfully against the hull of the ship U.S.S. Enterprise as he bee-lined dourly for the elevator system. His stoic expression was painted with the obvious state of a deep thought process, both painful and anxious. And, though his outer appearance and well-proclaimed emotional mask was convincing and straight, his internal conflict with it's nagging whispers were solemnly tugging at the thin line upon which his emotions stood. Vulcan, his home planet, was being attacked. Something or someone was endangering the only place he called home, and the only safe-haven for his mother and father; as well as the entire species in which he merged. If anything were ever to happen to Vulcan – well, let's just say the soul reasons for Spock joining Starfleet were to reassure himself that he would always have some power in protecting his people; his home. But never in a million years would he have expected to ever see the day when that evasive plan-in-action would _actually_ have to take place, leaving him both emotionally and physically torn. Slinking easily around men with winsome work-ethics, and woman with their noses buried into the screens of computer-pads, the Commander paused in mid-stride as a familiar voice seemed to ring into his serrate, momentarily distracting him from his distressed thoughts.

"We need to get you changed."

"I don't feel right, I feel like I'm leaking --"

"Yeah – well, there's that pointy eared bastard."

Glancing sharply to the left, searching the top of the many Cadet head's that shifted around the room, Spock narrowed his soft eyes insufficiently with an attempt to spot the man's familiar voice he swore he had just heard. Cadet Kirk; though he had only known the cadet for a limited number of hours, the Commander could spot the cocky voice anywhere in the universe with just one little tease. Twitching his hand in absentminded annoyance, Spock forced himself to believe it had just been a mind-trick on his flittering emotions, and in that moment concealed himself to focus on handling his incongruous mind. Stepping lively into the elevator, lips parted in silence, he pressed quickly onto the control module of the small room and waited as the computer beeped a melodic tune. Standing as stiff as a board, counting inside of his head to the number of five, Spock waited until the doors re-swung open, revealing the main bridge. Inside of the bridge was a number of busy officials and commanders, all hustling around in the most postured fashion, each busy at work with their separate tasks. In the center of the room was an empty captains chair, sitting in perfect direction towards the wide-opened window, radiating with importance. As the Vulcan stepped lively around the area, he nodded his head towards the back of a very unfamiliar neck belonging to a Caucasian male who seemed to be driving the ship, and a vast rate of concern swept through him.

"Mr. Spock!"

Spock exhaled heavily as he plopped down into a seat with a winsome appearance, punching in a few plots at the glowing computer screen before him. The captain's voice from behind the corner rang both urgently and thankfully, as if the very sight of the Commander was a success in itself. "Captain," Spock said stiffly, acknowledging the recent presence of the powerful man behind him. "Engineering reports 'ready for launch'."

"Thank you." Captain Pike said with a smile towards the Vulcan as he tore haughtily at the yellow shirt collar around his neck, placing himself stiffly within the captain's seat while flipping at a small switch in the arm rest. A joyous 'bleep' emerged from the chair, and he instantaneously broke into commands that rang throughout the entire vessel. "All deck's; this is Captain Pike, prepare for immediate departure. Helm, thrusters."

The new pilot pressed firmly into a series of buttons, simultaneously reporting back with a mellowed voice that seemed much too young to be flying such a craft. "Thrusters fired, separating from space dock." Soon after, Spock grabbed onto the module before him as the ship shifted below them, humming loudly as it separated from the dock. This would be a promising trip...

"The fleet's cleared space dock, captain. All ships ready for warp." The pilot's puerile voice rang stiffly.

"Set course for Vulcan." Captain Pike replied quickly, leaning deeply into the back-rest of the chair and biting down on his lip.

"Aye, aye Captain. Course laid in." The pilot answered, swiveling around in his own chair to stare nervously back upon the face of the leading man.

Pike brought his hand up to his chin and clasped onto it firmly, narrowing his eyes past the vast span of space beyond the window. A determined quake flushed over his elder face, and he lowered his voice to a serious drone. "Maximum Warp. Punch it."

The pilot turned back towards the intimidating number of nobs and switches, placing his palm tightly atop a lever that eased slowly forward when subdued. As he pressed against it, the surrounding ships blew off in flashes of warp-speed, disappearing into the large disarray of stars. The Enterprise gave a loud roar, as if threatening to explode, singling itself out in posture. The crew all glanced around in confusion, and a low roar of murmurs and complaints began to flood about the hull. Spock released his hold on the module and turned about to face the new pilot, a curious look adorning his dark eyebrows.

"Lieutenant, where's Helmsman Leutenna?" Captain Pike said warily, pressing his lips tightly together as his brow caved into submission.

"He has lung worm, sir. He couldn't report to his post." A man at Spock's left mused abruptly.

"I'm Hikaru Sulu." The pilot said slowly, kneeling his elbow roughly into the back of his chair as he, once again, swivelled around to face the captain.

"And you are a _pilot_ – right?" Pike accused roughly, raising both of his eyebrows in suspicion at the lack of movement.

"Uh, very much so, sir." He said with a loud gulp, turning back to face his busy-work. He began to press and pull on various different objects, examining and double-examining each transaction over again. "I'm, uh... I'm not sure what's wrong here."

"Is the parking break on?" Captain Pike said again, amused, though his frustration level was obviously wavering.

Chuckling winsomely, the pilot bit down on his lip and shook his head in a horde of anxiety. "No, but I'll figure it out -"

"Have you disengaged the external initial dampener?" Spock said quickly over the man's mumbling.

There was a momentary silence in the bridge as the pilot, embarrassed, leaned back in his seat after flipping one lonesome switch that was (seemingly) having something to do with what the Commander inquired. Spock chuckled lightly as the man strained his shoulders and squinted, his voice hallowing to a low hum. "Prepared for warp, sir."

"Let's punch it."

------------------------------

"Lightning storm!" Cadet Kirk shot up, caked in sweat, gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from an under-water exploration. Reaching absentmindedly for his aching neck, rubbing tenderly across the seething surface with gentle finger tips, the cadet strained his neck back and forth in an attempt to subdue the pounding burn. Feeling his pulse tap rapidly beneath his skin, he felt as if a symphony of horns were blowing directly into the side of his head, rattling his eardrums and puncturing his ears. As the sight in his eyes slowly began to clear, and the surrounding bodies of tightly-fitted woman in white nursing outfits squandered into view, he half-expected himself to be dead. Refraining from blurting out if 'this was heaven', Kirk was notoriously dismayed as his head cranked to the left and his eyes fell onto the face of McCoy.

"Ah, Jim, you're awake. How do you feel?" McCoy said mirthlessly, folding his arms before his chest and weighing the time it took for the man to respond. In reply, Kirk groaned loudly and bent his neck backwards, rolling his head around just to make sure all systems were still active in his body. As his shoulders caved inward with the lull of his torso, he was suddenly reminded of what had awoken him in the first place. Snapping his back into a straight composure, Kirk kicked his legs off of the medical bed and began to walk hurriedly towards the exit.

"Whoa, whoa! You can't just get up like this – you have to keep your blood-pressure down!" McCoy said firmly, grabbing at Kirk's arms and halting him.

Kirk immediately writhed in his friends arms and swung at him gently, attempting to void him off. "Lightning storm. I heard that Russian kid say something about a lightning storm!" Kirk said despotically, pointing at the play-back of the announcement that rolled across the screen of a nearby computer.

McCoy glanced at it and shrugged his shoulders slowly, re-grasping his friend yet again and sticking him with another shot. "And? This isn't like earth, Jim, we aren't going to get struck by lightning on a ship -"

"Bones!" Kirk cried out in pain as the shot's fluid fluctuated down his spinal chord. "We have got to stop the ship." Then, with expert diversity, the cadet wiggled from the doctor's arms and sprinted into the hallway.

------------------------------

Vulcan. The reddish-hued planet was precisely sixteen light years in distance from the planet Earth, orbiting a lonely stature in the middle of the universe. Its desert surface homed a population of six billion, including wonderful cities and massively humungous regions that swept across the entire planet's crust. The climate, though generally harsh, seemed to somehow horde its very own ocean as well as a thin atmosphere that made it easily possible for humans to walk freely across it's plains (though the air, being much denser, seemed to tire the human body much faster than a Vulcan's). The only problem with the sandy surface was that it was easily susceptible to electrical sand fire storms – possibly creating the foreboding natural disaster ahead. In simple terms, it was worth _every_ ounce of battle to ensure the safety of the ancient planet; but at what cost? Flattening his palms together in uncertainty, Commander Spock stared at the empty computer screen with a glassy film before his eyes. It was probably nothing. The odds were, there was just some small natural disaster that the Vulcan High Command found to be a little bit overly-intimidating, therefor calling in the help of Starfleet. In reality, it was probably no big deal, and there was nothing for him to worry his mind about. The planet would be fine, the counsel would be fine, his mother would be fine...

Spock clenched his jaw aggressively, sedulous in convincing himself that there was no need to be concerned. There was certainly nothing going on at Vulcan that the entirety of Starfleet could not contain; no matter how threatening it seemed. Inhaling heavily, dropping his arms back to the rests of the chair, Spock's ear twitched rapidly to the left as the strange sounds of distressed shouting merged from the hallway.

"Jim!" Undoubtedly, McCoy's voice.

"What's going on?" Uhura, strangely enough.

"Jim, don't go in there!" Again, McCoy.

"Kirk!" Uhura...

"Captain!" And there it was, James T. Kirk's voice. "Captain Pike, we have to stop the ship!"

Then, before anyone could have any reaction time, Cadet's Kirk, McCoy, and Uhura all stampeded around the corner, sliding into separate halts as Captain Pike jumped up from his chair. Everyone in the bridge looked at the trio in deep confusion, marking their expressions in unattributed verbiage. Thrown into a fit of irritation, Spock stood as well, staring at Cadet Kirk with a heated encumbrance. How the hell he had managed to get on the ship, no one knew, but there was a certainty of ill-outcomes to be ensured because of it. Immediately, McCoy jumped in front of Kirk, spilling his heart about how 'everything was his fault' and that Kirk was under an intense amount of shock from being – oh, it was uncertain as to why, perhaps he was sick, or something. As McCoy dabbled on and on, Kirk shot Commander Spock an amused look to outfit the Vulcan's peeved expression, and winked. Raising his dark eyebrows in simulation with the cadet's – what was it – flirtatious behavior? - Spock clenched his fists in dilatory response. As the duo stared each other down with a building indulgence, McCoy continued to prattle on and on, simply painting the expression of distaste upon the Captain's face.

Forcing his blue eyes to drag away from Spock's placid skin, Kirk elbowed McCoy out of his way and bowed threw his voice into admission. "Vulcan is not undergoing a natural disaster, it is being attacked by Romulans."

"Romulans?" McCoy mouthed, staring at Kirk as if he were a nutter.

"Cadet Kirk, I think you have had enough attention for one day!" Captain Pike said sternly over him, shooting the doctor a glare. "McCoy, take him back to medical, we'll have words later."

Ducking away from McCoy's grasping arms, Kirk jumped onto the chair-platform with the Captain and practically shoved himself into the man's face. "Sir, that same anomaly you saw today - "

"Captain, Cadet Kirk is not fit to be aboard this vessel!" Spock shot out immediately, giving the captain a perforce glare while taking a steady step forward. Kirk clenched his hands furiously at this gesture, and thus began a heated argument;

"Look, I get it, you're a great debater - "

"And by regulations we should immediately remove him from - "

"I would love to do it again with you some time - "

"I can remove the Cadet from the shuttle if - "

"TRY IT!" Kirk shouted loudly, causing Uhura to slightly jump, McCoy to raise both of his eyebrows in shock, and Spock to bite down on his tongue. "This Cadet's trying to save the bridge!" The dagger-glares the Commander and Cadet shot to each other were persuasive enough to almost shake the entire room, sending chills down everyone's backs.

"By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?" Spock hissed through gritted teeth, narrowing his dark, gentle eyes to cascade into Kirk's ice-blue, fierce ones.

"You're impossible." Kirk groaned furiously, turning his attention back towards the captain with a much softer voice. "Listen to me, this is _not_ a rescue mission, it's an attack."

"Based on what facts?" Spock demanded sharply, slipping in once again.

"That same anomaly - a lightning storm in space that we saw today - also occurred on the day of my birth, before a Romulan ship attacked the U.S.S. Kelvin. You know that Sir, I read your dissertation." Kirk continued in intransigent reply to the Vulcan's pestering. "In twenty-three hundred hours last night there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon war birds destroyed by Romulan's, Sir. And it was reported that the Romulan's were in one ship – one massive ship!"

"And you know of these Klingon attacks, how?" Captain Pike demanded, a confluence of belief beginning to accumulate behind his rough eyes.

Hesitating, Kirk's gaze fumbled lazily onto Uhura who was standing rather absently off to the side, twiddling her thumbs. She bit nervously down on one cheek as she became narrowly aware that everyone was looking at her, eyes fluttering momentarily before she caved her head forward and nodded. "Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate." Spock's mouth gaped slightly open in shock as the woman spoke, but he quickly snapped his jaw shut and turned his attention back onto the Captain. How could she not tell him something like that?

Kirk's paroxysm faded with a small nod as his determination slipped into full throttle. "We're warping into a trap, Sir, the Romulan's are waiting for us I _promise_ you that."

Captain Pike sighed incredulously and glanced at Spock, who's human eyes bored deep into the side of the cadet's face. The sincerity in the man's expression was little to argue with, the Vulcan decided, and his points were clearly accurate (to some degree). Failure, at this point, was not an option, and taking any chances in losing Vulcan was in no way, shape, or form going to happen. "The Cadet's logic is sound." The Commander finally announced soft yet sternly, crossing his hands behind his back and giving the Captain a reassuring nod.

"Alright, then, let's listen to the kid..." And with that, everyone in the bridge turned their attention back to what they were doing as Captain Pike began to shout order all about the bridge; all except for Commander Spock and Cadet Kirk.

Gulping down the lump that began to form within his throat as he felt the warmth of Spock's eyes gorging into the side of his face, beads of sweat cascading down the rim of his golden skin, Kirk caught his breath slowly and backtracked. An evanescent surge of wonderment passed over his inner-curiosity as he fought not to meet the Vulcan's eyes - but his mind got the best of him. Slowly, hesitantly, Kirk's gave fumbled messily onto Spock's, and his chest caved with a heave. Why the hell was he staring with such an odd expression?

"May I converse with you, Cadet?" Contrary to previous beliefs that Spock might have conjured in his moment of defiance, he now had to settle things before he got too comfortable with the present outcome he had made of things. Waiting patiently for Kirk's reply, which never actually came, he simply walked into the hallway and cut around the corner as to block direct vision of their conversion.

Running his tongue nervously across his upper lip, Kirk folded his arms seclusive and shrugged his shoulders towards the florescent ceiling. "What?"

"I think it is wise that I accepted your conclusion, however, on the contrary, I have despised you from the beginning of our encounters. Thus being so, I hereby swear to you that if, while you are present aboard this ship, anything is to go astray I will personally handle you with a great lack of care." Kirk flinched as he made his way carefully through the labyrinth of explanation the Vulcan had presented, ending up with absolutely _no damn clue_ what he had just said. Had he just _threatened_ him? How cute...

Reaching forward with a bemused smile, Kirk simply pat the Vulcan on the arm roughly, shaking his head. "I accept that as a welcoming aboard, Commander."

Spock leaned away from the Cadet's arm, his jaw dropping open to defy him, though words seemed to to lack in copious supply. Slamming his mouth shut, the Vulcan mirrored the cadet's former stance, folding his arms before his chest and exhaling deeply, driving the insane notions from his body. There was something so strange about James T. Kirk that made Spock feel like he never had with anyone before. Nothing scared the blonde-headed, cocky, straight-necked cadet; and, likewise, nothing ever seemed to bother him. He lived for nothing and everything at the same time, and though he seemed to be a horrid being, there was a radiance of good that hung from the edge of his shoulders – in other words, he was absolutely fascinating.

As the silence filled the hallway, and Spock stood in deep thought, Kirk finally couldn't help himself but to whistle and wave his arms spiratically in front of the Vulcan's face. "Earth to _Spock_?"

Shaking his head, the Vulcan dropped his arms from their folded position and smiled slightly. "My apologies, Cadet – you're right."

Jaw dropping and eyebrows raising, Kirk took a step back in amazement. "I'm right? My god – can I get a witness on that?" Then, with much urgency and force, Spock smacked his hand into the side of Kirk's arm, much like the cadet had done to him. Eyes wincing with pain and confusion, Kirk rubbed angrily at the throbbing skin, twisting his mouth. "Ow – what the hell?"

"Welcome aboard, _James_." Spock said with a simple shrug, then made his way back to the bridge.

END.

------------------------------

And thus, the beginning to an incredible friendship; via my imagination.  
Nowwww, here are my thoughts; I was going to continue with another story (like a sequel to this) aiding the movie but with my own fun twists. Question is, should I? Give me your opinions, please.  
**Thank you SO MUCH for reading my first ****Star Trek**** short story!**


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